


Pulled Under

by ObsidianRomance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean returns from hell he is plagued by nightmares and something else. He deals with his own inner torment and his relationship with Sam all while he can't shake the feeling that he didn't come back from hell the same way. (This is not demonic Mpreg. It will make sense later)<br/>The story is slightly A.U. since it goes off track after Dean comes back from hell. (Mostly after the "Heaven and Hell" episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulled Under

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Aside from Wincest- cursing, schmoop, angst, mpreg!Dean, versatile!Winchesters, porn, birth  
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. I am simply using them for my (and hopefully others) amusement. The only things that belong to me are the plot and the grammar mistakes. This story is something from my dreams that won't leave me alone. Thanks! So enjoy.  
> Authors Note: A line of asterisks means scene change and anything in italics is a dream.  
> Thanks to bt_kady for the banner!
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://www.flickr.com/photos/85421651@N04/8502937583/)  
> 

_Dean fell back covered in a mixture of blood, sweat, and grime. His eyes blinked frantically, but the rest of his body stayed as still as he could make it, hoping, praying, that if he didn’t move, if he resisted what he knew was coming, then it wouldn’t happen. The exhaustion and abuse his body had suffered betrayed him, shattering his stoic pose into what he really was: a destroyed and shivering broken body. He knew what came next, what always came next. Inside his head there was a voice screaming “no, please no” but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of saying it out loud. He wouldn’t let them know that he lost a piece of his humanity every time he was asked to…made to…forced to do…it._  
  
 _“Dean,” the voice slithered into his ears as its owner placed something in his hands. “You know what you have to do.”_  
  
 _He didn’t move. He didn’t have to look at his hands to know what he was holding. He didn’t even breathe. His blood pooling around him - a feeling that once left him disturbed - became background noise rather than the leading player. He already knew how this ended, how it shattered, how it splintered. And suddenly, yet unsurprisingly, he heard the wailing of a newborn. His breath hitched in a shudder, eyes squeezing shut, as he lunged into action._  
  
Dean jolted upright, so suddenly and so brutally thrown into consciousness that he was left dizzy and unsure of his whereabouts. His chest heaved as he pulled rapid breaths through his parted lips, his hands kneading the stiff white sheets of the motel bed. His eyes flicked to the left and right, remembering that he and Sam were in some no-name motel in the middle of Kansas. Heart hammering in his chest, waves of panic and uneasiness ran through his system. Drawing his hand over his face, Dean closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing. He felt the agitation boiling over in his gut and knew it was a losing battle.  
  
The same dream every night.  
  
The same dream making him want to stop breathing. The same dream making him want to destroy himself. He tried to push out the lingering images of his dreamscape but his body dry heaved instead. He tried to focus on the cracked ceiling tiles over his bed in hopes of stifling any further reaction but he knew that too was a losing battle. Five seconds later, he was storming towards the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach. Gripping onto to cold porcelain, he wished that he could also empty all the guilt and wickedness he felt into the bowl.

 

****************************

  
“Are you planning on telling me what happened last night?” Sam leaned back in the chair and kicked his legs up over the small table next to him.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean threw his brother a sideways glare and went back to rearranging the weapons in his bag.  
  
“Dean…” Sam huffed so as to blow some of the hair out of his face. “I’m not deaf, you know. I woke up to hear you breathing like you just ran for your life and saw you puking your guts out before you slammed the door none too gently.”  
  
Dean didn’t take his eyes off the task at hand. “Ohh that. That was nothing. Nightmare.” Knowing Sam couldn’t see his face he dared to suck in the corner of his lip and bite down on it.  
  
“You’ve never had nightmares that hit you that physically before?” The words left Sam’s mouth as more of a question than a statement as he contemplated the truth.

“Well I am now. I just got out of the pit and jus' because I'm back up here, it doesn’t mean my mind is at peace while I'm sleeping. Just leave it alone Sam.” He shoved the bag down on the bed and marched into the bathroom, gripping the corner of the sink as he stared into his reflection’s eyes and noticed the thin film of sweat appearing on his brow.  
  
Sam kicked his legs off the table but knew better than to follow his brother into the bathroom. He leaned forward, bracing himself with elbows propped on his knees. “You’re dreaming of hell? Dean, why didn’t you tell me.”  
  
“I said leave it alone Sammy. I mean it.” Dean spun around to face his brother. His mouth went to move, to say something, to explain why he couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t talk about it. Instead he just locked his jaw and kicked the door closed.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and threw his arms up in temporary defeat. He would back off for now but only long enough to give his brother time to let go of whatever tension was building up inside him. He knew Dean, knew everything about him, and he knew when he was or wasn’t okay. This was one of those times that fell into the latter category. He hadn’t seen hell, hadn’t been stuck there for four months, hadn’t been ripped to shreds by hell hounds, but he was sure he could understand the concept if Dean would take two fucking minutes to give him a straight answer about it. Frustrated and at a loss for something else to do, Sam booted up his laptop, unaware that his brother was heaving the contents of his stomach into the toilet for the second time in five hours.

 

 

**************************

  
“So are we going to do this?” Dean sauntered over to his bed and slung his bag over his shoulder.  
  
Sam’s eyes fluttered from his laptop to his brother, who had suddenly decided to make an appearance after being holed up in the bathroom for, what Sam considered, way too much time. “Is your highness ready to be a functioning part of society today?”  
  
Dean thumped his brother on the back of the head. “That depends on your definition of functioning. I'd say there're a lot of things about us that're pretty dysfunctional.” He shifted his weight to one hip and leaned against the door frame.  
  
With slight amusement, Sam nodded his head. “I'd say most things about us are dysfunctional.” He slammed the laptop shut and in a swift motion grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. As he walked up to his brother he narrowed his eyes in question. In a motion that came off too fluid to not be a routine gesture, Sam brushed up against Dean’s side. “You good?”  
  
Instinctively moving to press more of his body against Sam’s, Dean smirked. His head tilted up so that his lips almost grazed Sam’s. “Yeah, I’m good.” Eyes zeroing in on the taller man’s, he gave him a quick nip of a kiss.  
  
“You’re sure?” Sam lowered an eyebrow quizzically before giving his own nip back, briefly sucking on Dean's lower lip.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed before shoving Sam out the door. “Sammy, I said I’m good. I’m good.”  
  
Tripping over his feet as he stumbled backwards, Sam pulled Dean out the door with him. He shrugged his shoulders and let out an frustrated huff of air. “You're exhausting.”  
  
Raising an eyebrow and gaving a wink, Dean looked at his brother over the top of the Impala before sliding inside. “It's part of my charm.”

 

  
***************************

  
Sam was angry. It was as simple as that. And in his anger all of his actions and gestures were punctuated with sudden, short, forceful movements. So when he propelled the motel door open and shoved his older brother inside, Dean wasn't surprised.  
  
“What the fuck was that Dean!?” Sam slammed the door closed behind him and stalked over to where the source of his anger stood in the middle of the room.  
  
Dean threw Sam a cocky smirk as he watched his brother parade around the room. “I’d say ‘that’ is how you get rid of a ghost. It might not have been the smoothest…” His words were cut off by Sam shoving him just hard enough to cause him to stumble backwards a few steps.  
  
“Oh save it Dean! You know exactly what I mean.” He tossed his jacket to the side and glared at his brother. He was frustrated and Dean was just fueling his fire. “ You could have gotten yourself killed.”  
  
“We always have those ‘could have gotten yourself killed’ moments. God Sam, why don’t you go to the bathroom and take your tampon out so we can talk like two men.” Dean shrugged his own jacket off, wincing slightly as he contorted his injured shoulder in a way his body disagreed with.  
  
“You were distracted, that’s what you were. I mean, it was a simple job Dean. You probably could have done it in your sleep…that is, if you’d been getting any sleep.” The younger man narrowed his eyes at his brother and curled his lip in aggravation. “And to be perfectly honest, I'm sick of the “Sam’s a girl” shit. You wouldn’t be standing in this room if this,” he pointed a finger roughly at his own chest, “so called ‘tampon wearing girl’ didn’t save your sorry ass.”  
  
“Sam listen…” Dean took one step closer. As soon as he did, Sam sprang towards him.  
  
“No, you listen.” Body immediately tense, Sam lunged forward. “You’re a coward!”  
  
Sam’s movement took Dean by surprise and he mistook his action for something more hostile than frustration. One arm went up to defend himself while his other took a swing at Sam. He didn’t land the blow but caught sight of the shocked look on Sam’s face, quickly realizing his mistake. His stomach dropped when he figured out Sam was not starting a physical fight but simply venting his annoyance with more body language than verbal language. If he wasn't already in hot with Sam before, he was now.  
  
Not one to let his brother’s action go unnoticed, Sam let out a lungful of air and took a swing at his brother.  
  
Stepping backwards, Dean avoided Sam’s advance but fell ungracefully to the floor after losing his footing around the unfamiliar terrain of the room. He quickly recovered and flipped himself over so that he was lying on his back. “Sam, I didn’t mean it. It was a mistake,” he punctuated his words with an uneasy grin. As he went to stand up Sam came at him again. Dean blocked Sam’s swing, his hand catching the taller man’s fist so close to his face that he had to look cross eyed at it. Pushing forward and shoving Sam backwards finally got them out of the corner of the room. Hopping to his feet, he charged at Sam, pressing both of his palms to the man’s chest and slamming him into the wall, using all of his effort to keep him there.  
  
“You’re just afraid of something and you won’t tell me.” Sam tried to side step the older man. His efforts were fruitless, leaving them both in a standoff, staring each other down. His eyes were locked on Dean’s, quickly becoming brown orbs of anger.  
  
“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about.” Snorting in Sam's face, Dean released him from against the wall.  
  
“Oh really? I know nothing about you?” He growled low in his throat and landed a punch to Dean’s shoulder. “I know nothing about the person I have known since I was born?”

Dean let out a laugh at Sam’s comment, immediately regretting doing so based of the angry attack it elicited out of Sam. “You do the same thing yourself all the time! Can’t condemn a man for something you do too. Have you missed the fact that we tend not to tell each other important things until it's too late? There is a pattern there Sammy.  Do I need to remind you who decided to drink demon blood?”  It was a low blow and Dean knew it but he was too frustrated to think about the results of his actions.  
  
Sam’s concentration faltered, allowing Dean to land a hard blow, and even though Sam blocked it, it sent him stumbling backwards. He hadn’t expected Dean to flip the conversation around and blame him. Regaining his composure, Sam retaliated. The older Winchester skillfully blocked the punch and ducked out of the way.

“Don’t give me excuses Dean.”  
  
“That's all we ever fucking do, Sam."  Anger flickered in his eyes before it caught wind of an underlying open wound they both carried.  "Can we talk about this…” he dodged Sam’s advance, “without the punches?” Dean and Sam stepped around each other, both men focusing intensely on the other.  
  
“Just getting rid of some frustration.” Sam thrust forward, “have a problem with that?”  
  
Dean jumped from one side to the other to dodge Sam’s advances. “Have it your way.” He took a heavy breath as he continued to fight verbally and physically with Sam.  This was a role he knew how to play.  He and Sam had their fair share of brotherly spats in the past and he wasn't one to step down from the fight.  Something about this one, though, went deeper than their usual headbutting.  

Sam slammed up against his brother and narrowed his eyes.  “Although, I'd rather you just tell me what's bothering you.”  He snarled when Dean pushed him off and broke their eye connection.  
  
“I always have every intention of telling you what you need to know. But you had to be the stubborn bastard you always are, you had to run at this problem like a bull in a china shop.” He swung around and, more by chance than skill, his fist connected with Sam’s left hip. He hadn’t meant to do that, but Sam didn’t know that.  
  
Sam growled and lunged at Dean, his body taunt with anger and annoyance. His fist connected with Dean’s stubbled jaw, knocking him off balance. “Ass!” He slammed into Dean, his body pressed against to him, his arms pinning the older man’s down.  
  
“Pig-headed!” Dean hissed as he broke away from his brother.  
  
“Malingerer!” Sam’s teeth were clenched as he spat his insult at Dean.  
  
In spite of the situation he had to laugh. How on earth Sam could be so genuinely Sam in the middle of a ridiculous fight. “What the fuck does that even mean, bitch?”  
  
Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, “Shut up jerk.”  
  
“Smart-ass”  
  
“Hypocrite!”  
  
“Pussy!”  
  
Both men let out a sort of growl of annoyance as they insulted one another. The more they fought the more their anger seemed pointless. “Why can’t you just be truthful with me?” Sam’s words were more of a stinging statement than a question.  
  
“Because you don’t know….” Dean paused and backed off. “You don’t know the things,” he pointed down, “that are down there. The things that I have to see every time I close my eyes.”  
  
“Clearly. I would if you ever spoke about it...” Sam swung forward. “…which you never do. Even though I have given you plenty of opportunities.” He took a minute to survey the room, the overturned table, the sideways chair, the bruises appearing on both of their bodies. “What are we doing?” He resisted the urge to step towards Dean, who looked up at him.  
  
Dean didn’t feel anything. He wasn’t angry at Sam, he didn’t want to retaliate, because he felt he deserved whatever punches and accusations his brother was throwing at him. “You’re winning. That’s what you’re doing.” Dean tried to voice everything he wanted to tell Sam, but he couldn’t find the words, or at least the words he felt comfortable with. He saw the anger slowly leaching from his brother’s eyes. It saddened him when he saw Sam’s expression change from fury to hurt. The fact that he could create that look in his brother’s face make his heart twinge. “Don’t worry about it Sammy. It’s not something you need to deal with.”  
  
Sam dropped his shoulders, the tension leaving his body language in that fluid gesture. “I do worry about it Dean. I worry about you every day. And even when I am not actively worrying about you the thought is still buzzing in the back of my subconscious.” He took a step closer to Dean and noticed a slight bruise on his jaw. “Did I do that?” Gently he allowed his hand to cup the man’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to.” He searched Dean’s face for signs of disapproval, and receiving none he leaned in for a gentle kiss.  
  
“It’s not really your fault Sam.” Dean reached his own hand up to cover the one that Sam was still resting on his jaw. “I thought you were starting something with me. I swung first.”  
  
“I guess brotherly rough housing instincts die hard, huh?” Sam tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sad sound than a joyful one.  
  
“You win Sam. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I should have been more focused. I shouldn’t have let my issues put me…put you…in danger. I was rash, and stubborn, and stupid, and probably….no definitely…do not deserve someone like you worrying about me and caring. Because I…I just find a way to mess up all of those good things.” Dean avoided eye contact for a minute before looking up at his brother’s conflicted face.  
  
“Dean, I…” Sam took another step closer and then froze, not sure how to proceed with his brother. Dean was difficult at best, impossible at worst. He was lucky that on most days he happened to speak ‘Dean’ and understood him perfectly, now was not one of those days.  
  
Dean closed the gap between them and expressed his feelings the only way he knew how, by scooping Sam into an embrace and pressing their bodies together. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and then placed an adrenaline fueled kiss to Sam’s lips.  
  
Sam’s body tensed at first, but he quickly met Dean’s fervor and allowed himself to be taken over by the energy coursing through his body. Dean’s tongue slid into his mouth, prompting him to curl his own tongue around it. He lifted both hands to cup the shorter man’s face as he was pulled deeper into the kiss. “Dean.” The sounds of their own hearts started to mixed with the heavy sound of Dean’s breathing and Sam thought it was the most arousing thing he’d ever heard. It was raw and rough and everything he felt when they touched. He pulled away from Dean so that he could kiss the man’s eyes, his lips traveling down Dean’s cheek to the bruise before returning to his lips.  
  
Dean gripped Sam’s backside firmly before pressing their bodies closer together. He held onto Sam tightly as he kissed the corners of the younger man’s lips.  
  
Habitually, Sam entwined his fingers in the back of Dean’s short hair and pulled him in for another fierce kiss. They pressed so close together that Sam thought he could feel Dean’s heart rate increasing when he pressed his tongue into the older man’s mouth. With a roll of his tongue along the inside of Dean’s mouth he discovered the metallic taste of blood mixed with the warmth the he was familiar with. He lost himself to the kiss before pulling away from Dean. The older man was getting starry eyed, his residual adrenaline leaving him in limbo between rage and lust. “You can’t mean that Dean. I am just as likely to fuck up anything good as you are, maybe even more so.”  
  
He didn’t want to fight, he didn’t want to tell Sam that he could never mess up as bad as he had already messed up. “If you say so...” Dean leaned forward and captured Sam’s lips again, nipping on the bottom one. Sam went to speak again but Dean silenced him with a long sloppy kiss. The taller man made a pathetic mewing sound in protest but then gave in to Dean’s lips with a quiet moan. When he released Sam’s lips he tightened his grip on the man’s hips. “Bed?”

Sam nodded without delay, letting out little puffs of breath. He leaned down to kiss Dean again, this time taking command of the kiss and moving his strong lips against his brother’s sinfully kissable ones. Not wanting to stop he let Dean guide him backwards towards the bed.  
  
Upon reaching their destination Dean shoved his brother down on the bed, landing him on his back using his elbows to prop himself up. With a subconscious stalking move, Dean crawled onto Sam’s frame, kissing him roughly. The kiss emphasized everything he needed it to. He was sorry. He was the stupid one. He needed Sam. He loved Sam. He _needed_ Sam. The fight and having Sam pressed up against him sent his mind racing. He lifted the younger man up higher onto the bed, kissing the exposed skin at his collar bone.  
  
Sam was frantically working with the buttons of his own shirt, cursing the little buttons before yanking it off without breaking the kiss. His head felt like it was spinning, yet every touch Dean gave him grounded him. Moans escaped his lips when he felt Dean suck on his neck, surely leaving a red spot in his wake.  
  
With a rush Dean pressed the taller man flat on the bed. Sam’s hands were pawing at him and trying to tug his shirt off, which he broke the kiss long enough to remove. The groan Dean received when he rocked his groin against Sam’s and attacked the man’s lips again sent a tingle up his spine. His actions were rough and clumsy, both men too clouded from the emotions of the day. He pulled away from his lover to look down at him, finally seeing the angry bruise on his left hip. “I’m sorry.” His fingers outlined to bruise and toyed with Sam’s waistband at the same time.  
  
“Shut up.” Sam kissed the green eyed man’s mouth. “Please shut up.” He deepened the kiss and coaxed Dean into silence by engaging his tongue in a more pleasurable activity. Leaning up he nipped at Dean’s shoulder before licking at his chest. He could feel the shiver that ran through his brother’s body, making him want to do it over and over again. Smirking he ran his tongue up to one of Dean’s nipples and sucked on the flesh, gently rolling the hardened pebble between his teeth.  
  
Dean sighed and rolled his hips into Sam’s, making it clear to Sam that he was hard. “Sam…” His voice trailed off into a moan as Sam continued his ministrations. He lowered himself so that his body was flush with Sam’s, trying to feel every muscle moving against his own. It somehow always made him feel better to get as much skin to skin contact as possible. It made it more real. It made him realize he was alive. It made him realize he had Sam. As he pulled away he ran his eyes over the tall, lithe, man below him, taking in the vision of Sam lying with his lips parted and eyes heavy with devious thoughts. Dean slid gracefully down Sam’s body until he felt his knees hit the floor. Looping an arm behind Sam’s knee, he tugged him down the bed so that he was still lying on the mattress but in a position allowing Dean to sit between his legs. A click of his tongue indicated the displeasure he felt in Sam’s state of dress, prompting him to remove Sam’s boots and jeans without losing eye contact. He was gentle when shimmying the denim over his wounded hip, dropping a kiss onto the bruise. He then alternated hips and kissed the right side, his tongue running over the scar tissue that resided there from a previous injury. Sam shifted his hips impatiently but he didn’t have to wait long for Dean to pay him the attention he desired. From his kneeling position between the younger man’s legs Dean tossed his brother a smirk. While keeping eye contact with Sam, Dean slid his tongue around Sam’s hardened length, running it along the creases on the head before taking the organ into his mouth.  
  
Sam moaned when he felt his manhood being engulfed by the moist heat of Dean’s mouth. He let his head fall back and stifled some of his moans in the fabric of the bedding. Feeling more confident in his actions, Sam reached down and pressed on the back of Dean’s head, guiding the man’s mouth down over his impatient member.  
  
Dean took in Sam’s length, his tongue tracing intricate swirling patterns on the organ sliding in and out of his mouth. While rolling his tongue around the stiff flesh he started adding a little suction to his actions, hollowing his cheeks.  
  
“Mmm, more.” Sam lifted his hips to the same rhythm as Dean’s sucking. He groaned when he felt Dean pick up the pace and suck at him a little harder. He hissed a “yes” when his brother raised one hand to gently massage and stroke his tensing ball, applying soft pressure to them. The sensation triggered Sam’s hands to grip tightly to Dean’s head, twisting his fingers into the man’s hair.  
  
Sam’s writhing and shuddered moans were only serving to arouse Dean further. He increased his tempo, drawing Sam completely out of his mouth and blowing a breath of cool air over the moist flesh. It was Dean’s turn to make the man below him shiver and he repeated the action before taking Sam into his mouth again. The moaning quickened when Dean ran his tongue over the smooth flesh at the tip of Sam’s erection before taking him wholly into his mouth.  
  
Sam’s body tensed, the older man’s mouth easily bringing him towards a much needed climax and tension release. He clenched his muscles while Dean deep throated his length, feeling his body falling over the edge. He closed his eyes and bucked his hips into Dean’s mouth. He struggled for a moment but finally pushed himself up on his elbows so he could look down at the man bobbing between his legs. “Dean…I’m going to…you should stop…I want to…”  
  
Dean pulled away for a moment. “That’s the point. I want you to come. I am in control now. You can be in control later. So shut up and enjoy this.” With a quick movement Dean pushed down on Sam’s abs and forced him back to the bed again. He got his rhythm back and continued his assault of Sam’s manhood, keeping up his pace and doing little tricks with his mouth. Soon enough Sam was thrusting himself forward, as far as Dean’s mouth would allow him. Dean smiled around Sam’s length when he felt the man go rigid. He was able to predict his brother’s orgasms down to the second. While holding Sam’s hips down, he licked at the man’s dripping organ till his body spasmed and he shot his release into Dean’s waiting mouth. Ignoring the slight discomfort from Sam’s fingers tightening on his scalp he swallowed the liquid. He was rewarded with the sound of his brother’s heavy breathing, resulting in a rush of desire to be as close to Sam as he possibly could, so without giving the younger man a chance to recover he climbed on top of him and was kissing his neck and shoulders, trailing his way over his exposed chest.  
  
Sam came out of his post orgasm haze to find his brother kissing his sweaty collar bone and grinding up against him. His arms shot out and pulled the man as close to his person as he possibly could. He needed to kiss any piece of Dean he could. His lips landed on the area behind Dean’s ear, and he pressed his face into it, inhaling the familiar scent while kissing him with a powerful tenderness. He pulled Dean’s face back up to his own and kissed the man’s lips, creating wet sucking sounds as he did so. He could taste his seed on Dean’s tongue, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed himself deeper into the kiss, snaking his tongue around Dean’s. Dean’s weight on his body felt comforting. He slid one of his hands down between their bodies, pressing his palm into Dean’s neglected length. Artfully he stroked the hardness through Dean’s pants, applying enough pressure to get a moan out of the man. “I want you.”  
  
“Thank god.” Dean pulled away, his movement rough and clumsy with desire. He slid his hands down the length of Sam’s body, feeling the toned muscles underneath the skin. He attacked Sam’s chest in a series of nibbles and kisses, Sam let out a content sigh.  
  
“You’re overdressed.” Sam rolled so that he was straddling Dean’s thighs, his hands unfastening his jeans and yanking them downward. Dean kicked his own boots off but Sam shimmied the fabric down the older man’s legs, exposing his dripping length. Dean rocked upward searching for some friction but there was none yet. Instead, the taller man leaned down and kissed Dean breathless. In the midst of the kiss, Sam remembered that Dean’s kisses were powerful and intense, just like he was, like there was nothing more important in the world. Everything around him was hazy except for Dean and the electricity between their bodies. He stroked the writhing man’s length, smearing the liquid that had formed on the tip around the head. “I’m in control now.”  
  
Dean smirked but it was short lived because Sam had grabbed his chin forcefully and was pressing a frantic kiss to his smirk. He was aware of Sam moving, Sam fiddling with something, and Sam spreading his legs, but he was too lost in touching the man and kissing him to realize specifics. He wanted everything to just go away right now and leave him with only this: the feelings coursing through his body when his brother touched him, the comfort he felt having Sam’s weight pressing down on him, the promise of something good to come. Sam’s fingers scissoring inside his body was real. This was real, everything else was just white noise and nightmares.  
  
“Come back to me Dean.” Sam was coxing Dean into a kiss. Dean’s too willing surrender had made him realize his brother was lost in some train of thought. He was relieved when he felt Dean come back to reality and suck on Sam’s lower lip. “Where did you go?”  
  
Dean spoke in between hasty kisses. “Nowhere. I dunno. I’m here now.” He bucked his hips up against Sam and groaned. “I’m here. I’m good.”  
  
Sam shook his head in confusion. He didn’t plan on letting Dean daze out again so he quickly pulled one of the man’s leg around his waist and continued pumping his two fingers inside Dean’s tight channel. When he scissored his fingers again he got a response from the man that indicated that Dean was in this, he was at full attention. After a few more moments of preparing his lover, Sam pulled away and slicked up his length with the same lube he had used on his fingers. He looked down at his brother turned lover and his heart did little happy flips. Dean was staring back at him and somehow managing to look vulnerable in controlling at the same time. His jaw was set but his body was open and begging for him to touch him, enter him, contain him.  
  
In a fluid movement Sam lined his slick manhood up with Dean’s entrance and he slowly pushed inside, teasing the older man with a few shallow thrusts before inching himself in fully. Sam liked to think that being inside Dean felt better than anything else in the world. He was sure that physically it probably didn’t feel any different than being inside another man; emotionally it felt amazing. Sliding deeper into the man below him Sam let out a low moan, enjoying the tight heat surrounding his arousal.  
  
Dean sighed as Sam slid a little deeper inside of him. It felt safe having Sam push deep inside him, loving the fact that right now all his mind was screaming sex sex sex Sam sex Sam Sam Sam. He closed his eyes and felt his brother move above him, gradually quickening the speed and length of his thrusts. Suddenly he let out a lungful of air as he felt Sam hit something inside him. He pushed his hips up at a different angle, feeling the younger man press against that spot. Sam was looking down at him with a grin. Sam shifted his hips and thrust into Dean again, brushing the same nub of flesh and sending a shudder through Dean’s body. He was moaning freely, all attempts to stifle them had been abandoned with Sam’s first thorough stroke.  
  
Enjoying the sound his brother was making, Sam dropped his head to Dean’s chest, rolling his eyes up to watch the man’s facial expression. Dean was thrusting his hips up to meet Sam’s pace, urging the younger man to drive into that nub of tissue more firmly this time. Sam had to moan when he saw Dean toss his head back in pleasure, the veins on his neck standing out as they moved together in a sweaty mess. He looked absolutely beautiful like that, his body tense, his muscles defined, his eyes fluttering closed with pleasure, their bodies coiled around each other.  
  
“Go faster Sam.” Dean opened his eyes and jerked his hips up towards Sam. A warm wave of pressure was building up in his groin and he felt it spread outward.  
  
Sam nodded in agreement. He slid out of Dean and thrust into him quicker and deeper. The sounds Dean was making below him were bringing him closer to the edge. “You feel amazing…” He was vocalizing each thrust with a groan or a moan, pistoning his hips so that he was sliding in and out of Dean more fluidly. Soon the two of them were moving on the bed in unison, each partner meeting the other’s thrusts, Dean’s arousal sliding between their hard stomachs. Sam’s head felt cloudy and Dean keeps making these throaty panting noises that make Sam want to slam into him deeper and harder.  
  
Suddenly, Dean grabbed Sam’s left thigh for support as he arched off the bed. Every time Sam thrust into him Dean realized how little credit he gives his brother sometimes. It was odd to see how at home Sam was when he was in control. He was so skilled at switching between controlling and being controlled that Dean thought it must have been an art form. His own transition was never that smooth. Before he could delve deeper into thought Dean’s lips parted and he gasped when Sam curled his hand around his manhood. Every time Sam thrust into him he pumped Dean’s length with his fist. “More.”  
  
Sam growled and slammed into Dean’s entrance. His hand was working feverishly to bring Dean to a second climax while he felt himself teetering on the edge. Lingering on the edge felt so good that he tried his hardest to draw all the feelings out as long as possible, his nerves tingling. Sam gave up his restraint when he noticed Dean’s breath coming faster and his body is tensing around him. He lets himself rock into Dean’s body, his face contorted with pleasure and concentration. His thrusting became more erratic and instinctive and less planned.  
  
“Sam, I can’t…I…” Dean moaned, feeling himself lose control.  
  
“Yes you can.” Sam stared at Dean.  
  
“Ngh!” Dean bit the corner of his lip. He wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck as he felt his nerves exploding. “I’m going to….” His words were forgotten when he felt himself spill his seed across Sam’s hand. The orgasm ripped its way through his body, tensing his muscles and causing him to let out a loud shout.  
  
Crushing himself into his lover, Sam let himself go, his hips rolling habitually and he climaxed as he thrust deep inside Dean’s body. While the stars played across his eyes he couldn’t do anything but hold on tight to Dean and let the shivers run through his body. He let his head drop onto Dean’s chest and he burrowed it into the crook of the older man’s shoulders.  
  
As the endorphins begin to fade, Sam’s muscles and chest started to feel the familiar ache of post coital activities. Dean was taking a majority of his weight but he didn’t seem to be complaining. The older man just stayed sprawled out on the bed, his chest working overtime to bring oxygen back to his brain. Slowly he rolled off of his brother, carefully sliding out of the man’s entrance.  
  
The two men just stared at each other, neither one having words at the moment. Sam swallowed and wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead. His pulse was still racing and he still had little zaps of energy coursing through his body. Being with Dean was defiantly more satisfying than being with anyone else. It wasn’t forced, or cliché, or romance novel. He didn’t have to sit there and tell Dean how amazing he was, how much he loved him, because it was all obvious. He didn’t have to nuzzle up to the exhausted man beside him, be he did any way because he wanted to. He stayed snuggled in the crook of Dean’s neck, draping half of his body across the man beside him. Dean responded by winding their arms together. Sam was tired or being conscious and tired of talking. “Are you actually going to get some sleep tonight?” He rolled his eyes so he could see his brother’s reaction.  
  
“I was planning on it. Why? Did you want to go again?” He laughed and pulled Sam closer.  
  
Sam snorted. “I don’t think you could go again right now if your life depended on it.” He smiled and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “Hey Dean?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I’m sorry…you know…about before.”  
  
“I know. I’m, uh..sorry too. We good now?”  
  
“Mostly.” Sam felt the tension leaving Dean’s body and his breathing even out. “Umm, Dean?  
  
Dean tensed and sighed, “Christ Sammy, what?”  
  
“You are still telling me what is bothering you tomorrow.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now shut your trap and let me ride my afterglow into sleep, okay?”  
  
Sam didn’t respond. He just shut his mouth and his eyes and followed Dean into sleep.


End file.
